Squire's Night
by Taryn Streambattle
Summary: During Arkham Asylum, Tim had his own battles to fight.


**Summary:** During Arkham Asylum, Tim had his own battles to fight.

**Setting/Spoilers:** Set during Arkham Asylum. Spoilers for later on in the Batman Mythos. I have not read the comics, but I know the basics of Tim's Backstory so I left it ambiguous so it could refer to both the Animated series and Comic book canon. Note that I much prefer the "figures out Batman's identity at nine" story line. XD Also a subtle reference to the Teen Titans Animated series.

**Rating:** **T** for mention of blood and descriptions of gore.

**Characters: **Robin-Centric (Tim Drake), Batman

**Warnings: **Perhaps not for the squeamish. Just a little bit of text, but still...

**Note:** Yay, my first Batman story. I _love_ Batman. Especially Robin and the relationship he has with Robin. Inspired by one of the comic panels I saw online where Tim was musing about Gotham as his city. Someone cited that as proof on why they didn't like Tim- "too arrogant". And this was born from that. Con crit welcomed, written with "I'm Still Here" from Treasure Planet and "The Battle" from Chronicles of Narnia.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Batman, Robin or any trademarked characters listed herein. I only own a plushie and that's a Christmas gift for my Six-year-old-Brother. So nyah. XD

**_Squire's Night_**

A final swipe of the bo staff sent the last thug flying. Tim straightened, wincing as his broken ribs pulled against his intercostal muscles.

After Joker's threat of a bomb had been leaked to the public, the entire city had panicked, and the limited news coverage of the slaughter on Arkham Island only served to push people farther into madness. Cars clogged the road like a thrombus, causing many to abandon their vehicles for their feet, one intrepid individual borrowing a horse. Several people had already been trampled to death in the confusion and Robin had been forced to wade through the carnage, blood and other bodily fluids staining his cloak and boots a sickening crimson.

After cuffing the thugs to a nearby chain link fence and searching them for any concealed nasties, Tim collected the fallen weapons, hissing as his chest sent fire down his nerves every time he bent down. Robin stashed the assortment of guns and knives in a flipped car. Looters and thieves prowled the streets in the chaos, using it for their personal gain, taking what they pleased both from stores and from stray people searching for a way out of the nightmare. No sense in letting any more thugs find weapons to wield against the people.

Tim knew that Alfred would rather he not be out here in this carnal insanity. But the butler had reluctantly let him out of the Batcave anyway, knowing that Gotham needed him.

He fired the grapnel gun and swung up to a gargoyle, giving the street a once-over before zipping to another perch at an intersection and peering down a new road. It was empty except for the corpses littering the pavement. Robin ground his teeth, knowing -_knowing- _that Batman would never have had so many people die on his watch.

He wondered what Bruce was doing now. If he was alright. The media had released rumors that Batman had been killed a couple hours ago in Arkham. Robin believed that the chances of that were thin. He and Dick had a bet going on how Bruce would actually die. Tim's money was on boredom, during one of those three hour meetings that could be summed up in a five-line email. However, that didn't keep claws of cold steel tearing at his heart at the mere thought of Batman trapped on an island with his deadliest foes out for blood. Just because Bruce was Batman didn't prevent that thin chance from becoming a reality in which Bruce wouldn't be coming back.

Bruce was more than a mentor, he was a secondary father. If Robin could have anything right now, he'd want to be at Batman's side. And right now, it was where he belonged. Batman needed backup. The Dark Knight needed his squire.

But as much as Tim wanted to take the Batwing and fly to Arkham Island, he knew that Bruce would want him to stay in Gotham. No one else could keep her safe. Barbara was a prisoner in her own body, Dick was miles away on the west coast visiting some old friends in Jump City. It was just Robin. Only Tim.

Just Tim. Years ago, he was less than that. But Bruce had taken him in. Trained him. Trusted him when no one else did. Passed on nearly only all of his knowledge. And though Robin knew that he was far below Batman's level, far below Nightwing or even Batgirl in her days of operation, today was the day. Today he would be tried. All the long years of training finally culminating in either a blazing fire or dying, choking embers. Gotham needed a hero and Batman could not answer her cries for aid.

He leapt from his perch and fired the grapnel gun, whooping with exhilaration despite the desperate situation, despite the blood soaking his uniform and the painful crackling of his ribs.

Tim landed on the top of WayneTech's headquarter. The smoke and fire rose from the beleaguered city like twisting snakes and even this high up he could hear faint screams and smashing glass. Thugs and criminals ran rampant, taking what the pleased whether it was freely offered or not. The dead piled higher.

It was too much. He couldn't do it all. _But he had to._

This city belonged to Tim. Not Oracle, not Nightwing, not even Batman could answer her call. It was Robin's city now. _His _city. And now Robin realized that Bruce had understood that one day this night would come. Batman had passed along to him all his knowledge and entrusted Tim with his legacy protecting the city he so loved. And now, it was Robin's job to ensure that Bruce's trust in him was not misplaced.

He jumped from his perch and let go.


End file.
